


Fair Game

by fatmabari



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Eventual Fluff, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Hunt Gone Wrong, Hunting, M/M, Medic can't use a rifle for shit, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Team Bonding, Trapped Together In A Storm, this is full of tropes I'm so sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-03-31
Packaged: 2018-05-24 22:47:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6169660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fatmabari/pseuds/fatmabari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Winter hits hard and earlier than expected, leaving the mercs snowed in without the supplies train able to access the remote Coldfront base. Sniper helps out by hunting wild game. Medic decides he needs to help him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a gift for weenie-kun on tumblr because she is amazing and also because I bribed her to complete some anon's request to make Sniper a robot fucker. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Thanks to AnimeJesus (baguettefeels on tumblr) for the initial idea for the premise cause I was drawin' a blank.

Two shots rang out off to his right, followed by a string of what were presumeably curses in German. Of course Sniper did not speak a bloody word of the doctor's first language, so the only way to confirm that would be to ask the man. Seeing Medic trudging back through a white curtain of snowfall with murder in his blue eyes, he was certain now was not a good time to ask. The older man swung his arm at the bough of a western spruce, the branches hanging low from the weight of snow and ice. For a brilliant man of science, he had not put a lot of thought into the physics of such action. Swaying lower under his forceful strike, the branch was relieved of its burden as mounds of snow toppled to the ground below. Before the irritable doctor was out of the way, the branch snapped back upward, slapping him in the back and spraying the remaining powder on it over him.

"Scheiß! Gott verdammt Baum!" Medic stumbled forward, only saved from toppling by the fact that he was almost up to his knees in the snow. He twisted around as best he could, eyes on the pine with the same ferocity he might reserve for an enemy Spy creeping up behind him.

Sniper frowned. In truth he never spent much time with the German, and by some stupid logic of his he had thought this was a good way to build some kind of bridge over the awkwardness between them. After all, he wasn't much for doctors in general, even ones who still posessed their licenses and sanity. Whenever a routine physical was due, he tried to find a way out of it. Once he'd even tried to convince Spy to use his disguise kit and go in his stead. But he did not dislike Medic himself. In some odd way he felt a connection to him, though for the life of him he didn't really know why. What could a rugged, wilderness-loving, awkward bloke like him have in common with a polished, if unpredictable, genius like Medic? The only way to answer that was to get to know him better without the antics of seven other men distracting him. He had not stopped to consider that a man of science and medicine had no business hunting in the Colorado Rockies during the dead of winter.

"Doc..." He trailed off as the Medic lifted his rifle in the air and hurled it a few feet away. Now that was just rude. No reason to treat a good piece like that. "Oi, Doc! C'mon mate, take it easy--"

Medic whirled his head around so fast it could have fallen off, Sniper was sure. "What did you say?" he snapped, his tone rising in pitch with every syllable. "'Take it easy', Herr Sniper? Is this some kind of leisurely nature trail for you? A nice camping trip with a colleague?" Each sentence grew louder, the restraint in his voice slipping. At least he waded through the snow to retrieve the rifle as he ranted.

"Nah, mate. It ain't. But we'd better make the best of this lousy situation." Sniper shifted his stance. The snow didn't quite reach his knees, and those few inches combined with long legs gave him an advantage in maneuverability over Medic. He sighed and ventured taking a few steps toward his irate comrade.

The doctor was fussing with the scope on his hunting rifle. "And this stupid thing just makes everything blurry!"

"Doc, what were ya even shootin' at? And how close was it?" Sniper reached out to try to help with the weapon and had it shoved into his arms roughly.

"No more than three meters! The verdammt hare was right there!" He crossed his arms over his chest and hugged himself while shivering as the wind picked up. Were it easier to move in the deep snow, Sniper could envision an indignant stomp of one polished jackboot.

Sniper looked the rifle over as he spoke. "Well if ya had hit it, it'd be wasted anyway. Ya can't shoot an animal that size with this. You're hunting for larger game, mate." Finite white clouds billowed out past his lips as he let out a long sigh into cold air. He should have tried harder to convince Medic to use the crossbow. Scratch that. He should have convinced him to stay on base and brought Heavy instead.

"I don't care what we're hunting for! I'm freezing my Arsch off und would eat the bark off these trees if I had to," Medic griped.

Sniper sighed. He'd wanted to hope for a good outcome, but maybe he'd known this was a bad idea, deep down. The team was stuck for a month or even two without the usual train delivery. Supplies had been due in but the winter storms hit early, throwing everyone for a loop. While Soldier carried on about rations and proper distribution of canned goods, Sniper had pointed out that they were surrounded by wilderness and could easily hunt.

At first he'd gone out alone and brought back small animals nabbed with his composite bow. It kept him busy and the team less hungry. It was a good arrangement. Until someone had to complain. That someone was Medic.

"Might I remind you that you that comin' along was your bloody idea?" Sniper grunted at him, closing the distance between them.

Medic was a lot of things, but compassionate was not something that fell on that list very often. Not unless the subject of his beloved birds came up. The flock of a dozen - give or take - doves the German doctor looked after received better care and respect than his own bloody coworkers. So maybe it was because of his pets, but the doctor wasn't very fond of poultry. The last night that it was his turn to cook, he'd made a ridiculous scene when Sniper presented him with two large quails he'd shot. He was tired of eating birds, why couldn't Sniper shoot a buck? Etcetera, etcetera. When he'd explained larger game was scarce this time of year, Medic accused him of making excuses and proceeded to invite himself along on his next excursion.

Medic glared over red cheeks, wide mouth curved into a deep frown. "You might have told me it would take this long. I am not accustomed to the cold."

"Doc, you ain't even accustomed to the outdoors. You'd rather hole up that dark lab of yours." Sniper studied his firearm while he spoke. Wonderful. The damned fool had twisted the scope too far and now it needed re-aligning.

"Not all of us are content to live alone in a tiny van without showering for half a week!" Medic jibed.

Sniper bristled. "For the last bloody time, I drive a pickup truck! The RV slides in. It's efficient and mobile an--" He stopped himself when he noticed that the center of the red splotches on Medic's cheeks and nose were turning white. "Forget it," he huffed, reaching with one hand to grab an end of his own scarf. "Here."

Tugging it free from his neck he moved towards the shorter man to put it around him. His attempt was met with a wary glare. "Herr Sniper, what are you doing?"

"Tryin' to warm ya up before you get frostbite." Sniper draped the scarf somewhat clumsily behind the doctor's head before he could pull away. "Stop being such a wanker," he grumbled while wrapping it in a haphazard manner over the German's other winter gear.

"I'm still cold," was all he got by way of thanks. Figured.

“Fine. Let’s just go back. Canned rations will do for tonight."

"Ja.” There was a tight, impatient quip to Medic’s tone that he was not unfamiliar with. It was the way he sounded when he’d had too much of the Scout’s antics, or tired of his teammates messing around with his supplies. The doctor was on edge, keeping his temper in check by force of will alone. If he did not get out of the cold and somewhere more comfortable, he was bound to snap.

Sniper kept a few choice words to himself, fiddling with his compass to make sure he lead them in the right direction. The snowfall had been getting thicker, though he had not paid as much attention to that as he should have. Turning back the way they had come, the trees thinned out gradually, and up ahead the incoming blizzard was making itself known. The branches of the spruces whipped about, their entire tops swaying sometimes as white-flecked swirls of icy air blasted through them. As the wooded area grew sparse, the snow got deeper, now the middle of Sniper’s shins. He glanced back, concerned. Foolish of him to worry, he realized. Medic was keeping up just fine. They all joked about him being an old man, but he was the only one who could almost keep up with Scout on the field. He tugged on the flaps of his fleece-lined hat and pulled them over his ears as they neared the edge of their partial cover. The doctor complained about the cold, but had he even stopped to consider the fact that his companion had grown up in the hot, dry Australian outback? Even the padded down layers of his jacket weren’t a perfect comfort out here, but no one saw Sniper making a fuss.

A gust of wind hit them as they stepped out past the cover of any trees and toward the sloped path back up to the base. It was merciless and unyielding, strong enough to cause even a sturdy man like the doctor to stumble back. Sniper grabbed the older man's arm to help steady him.

"You all right?" he asked. Or tried to before the wind swallowed up his words.

Medic seemed to get the gist of it, because he offered him a curt nod while holding Sniper's scarf up over his face. The storm was rolling in too fast for them to outrun it and make it back to the base. There were smaller buildings around, abandoned either before Mann Co moved their operation in or because of it. He did not savor the idea of being snowed-in with an irritable Medic in some flimsy shack waiting for the man to snap and kill him out of a mixture of spite and boredom. Respawn range was a bit unreliable in Coldfront. Without any choice, he turned and pushed his teammate back to where the trees shielded them.

“What are you doing, Dummkopf!” Medic snarled, yanking free of his grip as soon as they were back from the edge of the slope a bit.

“We ain’t gettin’ anywhere in this, Doc,” he shouted over the howling winds. “There’s no way we’ll make it back. We’re gonna have to find shelter.”

Bright blue eyes flashed with fury at him from under the shadow of his coat hood. “Und where do you suppose we are to do that if not our base?”

Sniper tried to retrace their steps in his mind, recalling the lay of the land as it had appeared when the air was clear save for a few flurries. “Back this way,” he said at length. “There was an old cabin or somethin’, looked empty."

Though he made no effort to hide his displeasure, Medic followed without any argument. This was going to be a long night, if he survived it at all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Medic is moody and Sniper is a cold nerd.

Wood buckled and clunked, snapping where it was too frozen and old to withstand the kick from Sniper’s boot. The boarded up door shook as it swung open, splinters clattering to the floor inside. The original purpose of the one-room cabin appeared to have been, ironically, for hunters to stay overnight. Not much had been left behind though. A set of moth-eaten curtains remained over the one window which was also blocked with a board nailed to the frame across the center. A pair of skis and a rickety chair laced with cobwebs graced the far left corner, but Sniper's attention was drawn to the small wood stove. It seemed almost too convenient, sitting in the far end of the room with a few logs rested beside it.

"If I didn't know better, I'd think someone set this all up just for us," he grumbled, waiting until Medic had entered to start fussing with trying to fix the door.

"Ja, a nice little getaway for us," Medic quipped. Sarcasm and bitterness dripped from his musical tone. He was engulfed in his own misery as he hugged himself and started dusting off the chair. “Perhaps our colleagues shall find us frozen here.”

“Supposin’ they even come lookin’.” He regretted it as soon as he said it, even if he did somewhat doubt whether these men who were the closest thing he had to friends cared about him at all.

“Hmph. Of course they will. They need me. Although the idea of them screaming ‘Medic!’ incessantly with no one to answer anymore is a bit morbidly satisfying."

Well he had the morbid part right, anyway. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry I got ya into this, Doc."

“If we freeze to death, I imagine it will be worth very little, ja?" Medic snapped.

Well that was rather snide. Sniper did not consider himself a very sensitive person. He was, after all, a professional assassin. But that stung just a bit. 

"Yeah, I guess it wouldn't be," he mumbled and trudged over to the wood stove. A few knocks on the smoke pipes metal revealed it seemed clear. "Bet it'd be okay to light this old bugger up."

"So? What are you waiting for? Rausch!"

Being ordered like that made his muscles clench. It was bad enough his days were filled with an old hag screaming at them all over the loud speaker. At least the benefits of this task were for him, too. Sniper crouched down in front of the fat iron body and got to work clearing out any old debris. As he worked, his mind wandered, back to his regrets about bringing the German along. 

Maybe he'd thought he and the doctor would find some kind of common ground in being the underappreciated members of the team. Even Spy, though his methods were nothing short of underhanded and greasy, walked away with more praise after a good match. Medics and Snipers only got attention when the opposing team was picking them off or when their own teammates expected them to drop everything and be there specifically for them. If he had a dollar for every time one of his mates snapped 'why didn't you get that guy off my tail? Didn't you see him?' at him after a poor match, he wouldn't need this bloody job anyway.

But he did. And most of the time he liked it. Right now, however, he was stuck here with a man who hated him, holding his lighter up to half-frozen logs trying to get the stove going. "Shoulda brought Pyro instead," Sniper mumbled.

"What was that?"

Sniper flinched. He was too used to being on his own. His childhood had been spent mostly by himself, not fitting in with the other Australians at all. It had lead to harmless habits that turned inconvenient when in company, like thinking out loud. "Nothin' Doc. Just talkin' to myself."

Medic didn't respond, and his muscles relaxed some as he watched a soft orange glow begin to spread across the first log. A thin twisting ribbon of smoke spun upward from the point and at last flames took hold. Sniper sighed with relief and sat back. Once he was satified the fire was growing he shut the stove door and tucked away his lighter.

"All set." He dared a glance back at Medic only to find him still glowering at him from his chair. "...Ya wanna move closer, at least?"

"Nein. I am fine right where I am." His tone was short and clipped, and cold, as if the deathly winter had the power to chill spoken words.

Sniper opened his mouth, a hundred frustrated thoughts begging to pour out. He clamped it shut soon after. There wasn't any point. It was fortunate for him that he was well-suited to doing nothing. Sniping was all about the waiting game, after all. He sat on the floor, slumped back against the cabin wall, watching the Medic when he could out of curiosity. Part of him wondered what went on in the man’s head, and the other part felt nervous just thinking about it. He didn’t think about it very often, but truth be told sometimes he found himself watching the German just a bit too long for no reason at all. The only one who ever seemed to notice was Spy, and if he cared he kept his opinion to himself. The longer Sniper looked each time though, the harder it was to shift his eyes away. It wasn’t attraction, was it?

No, that couldn’t be it. Sniper almost chuckled a bit, letting his eyes close to help him clear his head. With a bit of effort he'd silence the thoughts that Medic might kill him in his sleep. The doc had enough self-control to wait until Respawn was in range again.

 

* * *

 

The others knew Sniper to be able to sleep just about anywhere and through anything, but that was often mistaken for carelessness. It was an unfair assessment of him, but he'd given up arguing. While he required very little in the way of luxury and comfort, Sniper possessed an instinctual sense of self-preservation from spending most of his life in the outback. Thus when he woke in the night with no immediate apparent reason, the fogginess of his senses unnerved him. He was registering his surroundings too slowly; not a good thing for an assassin. An icy burning pain permeated his nerves, but he was otherwise somewhat numbed to external stimulus. He curled tighter, trying to envelope himself in the warmth his coat was meant to provide. But there wasn't any heat left to absorb there, as if his body had turned to ice. 

Frostbite. Or was it hypothermia? One of those. He didn't know much about the medical terms for ’stonkered the cold' anyway. 

Sniper rolled over, his heart throbbing in his ears. "...Doc? Doc, wake up..."

"Ja, I am awake. What is it?" 

The reply was instantaneous. Sniper craned his head to see that not only was Medic awake, but he was trying to get the old heating stove going again. The wood he'd taken so long to get going was nothing but dying embers. The soft orange glow they still let off was fading fast.

"...I can't feel my legs. Or my hands, really..." he admitted, still groggy.

Shuffling noises followed and the doctor's face, barely visible in the dark, appeared over him. A hand that could not be as warm as it felt touched his forehead and then his cheeks, checking. "That does not surprise me, Herr Sniper. You've been shivering over here in your sleep. I've been trying to relight the stove."

"Didn't even last half a night... knew it wouldn't," he mumbled, letting Medic prop him up against his shoulder. 

The older man rubbed his arms and back through his coat. "Ja. I need to find something else to burn to get it going again until the... Ah-ha!"

Sniper almost fell back when Medic moved away, not ready for the sudden loss of support. He blinked numbly as the other man returned in front of him to swing open the charred door to the old furnace and threw something in. From the hollow thud to the clattering sound that followed, Sniper knew just what it was his teammate had decided to turn into 'firewood'.

"What the bloody hell--? Medic ya wanker take those out of there!" He reached out, trying to grab at the man's arm. "You're not burnin' my arrows!"

His hand was swatted away, and a moment later a small orange flame lit up the room. "Nein!" Medic turned his head enough so his serious expression was outlined by the firelight of Sniper's lighter in his hand. The man was all dark blue shadows traced in gold. It was almost beautiful. "I will not let my colleague and, need I remind you, patient freeze to death!"

The severity in the doctor's tone was unlike anything he'd ever heard from him before. Concern was not an emotion he was familiar with seeing Medic express, to the point where he was not even sure he could trust himself to identify it in the other man. Sniper also was not always so good with reading facial expressions either, or any social cues for that matter. But the set of the man's jaw, the thin line of his lips, the way his brows knit together; it all pointed to genuine worry. 

"Fine." Sealing his lips together, he gave his colleague a rigid nod and looked away as the man set his hunting gear aflame.

"There! Now it should get hot enough much faster," Medic said, pleased with himself. 

"...How'd ya know so much about makin' a good fire anyway, mate?" The truth was he ought to have thought of this earlier. The arrows were replaceable and made for excellent kindling.

"Herr Sniper, do you think me helpless? Besides, electrical heating is a luxury I did not grow up with."

Of course he didn't. Medic had to be in his fifties, though he wore those years very well. Sniper ought to have known. "Right. Didn't think of that."

"Ja, well, there are a great many things you do not seem to think of, mein Freund." Medic settled down on the floor beside him.

Sniper bristled. "Oi! Just what the bloody hell's that supposed to mean?"

The older man looked over, bright blue eyes flecked with gold reflections settling on him. "Did it occur to you that the purpose of this trip was not all that important?"

A sinking feeling grabbed at his chest and pulled down on his heart. 'We don't need you', was what he might as well have said. 

"Heavy offered to go twice, but you insisted you were the resident hunter," he chided. "That man has hunted bears in Siberian wilderness! We didn't need rabbits or quail or whatever other creature you and I might have caught." 

Medic was unwrapping something from his neck. The warm glow from the furnace window illuminated the variegated dark red and orange-red pattern of his scarf. The doctor wrapped one end of it back around its rightful owner so that they now shared it. He settled in a bit closer to Sniper, resuming the task of trying to warm him up by rubbing his arms. 

"I just... wanted to be useful. I don't got a lot goin' for me, ya know?" he admitted. Shivers wracked his body and he'd never felt more pathetic, but the doctor's hands working away to warm him were proving to be effective, however gradual.

"Hush!" Medic's voice had that almost cheery quality in it. "You are, as Heavy puts it, a credit to the team. That Schweinhund BLU Spy would have had me plenty of times were it not for those eagle eyes of yours."

Sniper couldn't believe his ears. "Ya mean that?"

"What could I possibly not mean about stating a fact? The Spitzel is a clever one, but you always know just what to look for, and are in the right place to do so." Medic paused, looking a bit uncharacteristic in the way he was chosing his words so carefully. "Your task is a thankless one, I think, being out of the thick of battle, but you are needed."

Finally, an acknowledgement from any of his teammates that his abilities were of value. That they didn't think of him just as some piss-throwing loser who lived in a 'camper-van', that was already more than he hoped for. That it was coming from Medic though, that meant even more. Men like him didn't waste energy with platitudes.

"I... Thanks, Doc. Didn't think anyone noticed, I guess." Now he was sure the warmth coming back to his nerves wasn't just thanks to the meager fire. It was occurring to him just how unfamiliar it was to receive any kind of compliment like that.

"Well, I do," he said, as if that was that. And maybe it was. He was so simplistic in his mannerism, not even aware of the significance of his words to Sniper.

For a while, the two sat in companionable silence. A glance up at the cabin's one window revealed hints of light in the sky. Dawn was approaching, and soon they'd be back at base, worlds apart. Sniper shifted, stealing a gaze at his teammate. Yeah, he was feeling his cheeks now for sure. Was a bit of simple praise all it took him to start getting flustered around someone? True, Medic was handsome. Sniper kept it to himself just how much of an interest he had in other men. He lived and worked in close proximity to many. Then again, though they would deny it, there probably wasn't a bloke on the team who hadn't at least done a double-take or two in the showers when the good doctor walked by. But Sniper was just a horse-faced recluse who had no business thinking about a guy so far out of his league. And he never had, not until now, with him so close, warming him with his own body...

Shit. He squirmed and looked away as the cold was burned from his flushing cheeks.

"D-Doc?"

"Ja?" His voice was so cheery and unsuspecting, it made Sniper feel even worse for the thoughts he was having.

"...Thanks. I know ya were pretty mad at me."

Medic turned, tilting his head almost the way a bird might as he considered the comment. "Was I? I don't really recall." He let out a high, musical laugh and shrugged. "I guess it didn't matter!" 

"I guess not," he mumbled. Then it hit him. "...If ya thought this whole trip was pointless, why'd ya insist on comin' along?"

"Hmm? I never said it was pointless, mein Freund. I said that the purpose for which you thought it served was perhaps secondary to something else." Medic had an odd irregularity to his tone as he spoke, almost as if he were nervous. But the doctor was far from skittish.

Sniper felt a bit foolish. "I don't follow."

He was given a small smile in reply. "No matter, I suppose. You should rest, Herr Sniper. It is a few hours yet until light, und you'll need your energy."

As Sniper nodded and started to move away and lay back where had, Medic tightened his grip on his shoulder and held him back. "Nein, stay close."

His heart thumped. "What- what for?"

"To keep warm, of course!" he chimed as though it were the simplest thing in the world.

"Oh. Right."

If ever there was a time his ability to fall asleep anywhere was a blessing, that had to be it. 


End file.
